A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

99. Chapter 99

Merlin tapped his fingers restlessly against the table that had been cleared of books and potions for them to eat on. The rhythmic 'tap, tap, tap' sound made by his fingers was almost soothing to him, and it helped him block away the darker thoughts trying to make it a permanent home in the back of his mind. He could feel the harsh wood under his fingertips, and its solid structure kept him focused on something other then his own life for once. Nobody would never know how good it felt to be able to feel things at all, his fingers warm to the touch now that tne chill of the dungeons had been chased away from him.

His shoulder still stung something fierce from where he had been leaning heavily onto the bars of the cell that one time. Merlin had seen the red welt forming across the back of his shoulder blade, where even his clothing hadn't been able to protect him from the burn. His clothes now, was rubbing against it, which caused little tingles of pain to shoot through it when he moved. But he was okay with the pain, relished in it almost, it was one more thing that would keep his focus entirely on what was going on straight ahead of him. And now allowing him to mope and complain about his fuck up of a life, it was better that way. The pain keeping him distracted was better than working himself to death. Now that Gwen was clear of all her charges, Merlin did need to find something else that would keep him busy.

Tap, tap, tap.

His fingers continued with the pattern, feeling every groove of the wood underneath him. Keeping Merlin grounded, focused…a hot bath had been exactly the thing he'd needed. It was the first thing he had done when he came in, though 'bath' had been a relative term to use. He'd only gotten a hold of a washcloth and sponged himself down with some of the fresh water Gaius had came home with. But he had used his magic, weak as it had been, some things were a simple matter for Merlin, and he'd been able to heat up the cloth. And was able to wash away all the grimy filth coating him. He'd even manage to change what he'd been wearing before Gaius had called him down for dinner. No more stuck with Arthur's cloak as if he was suffocating him.

Tap, tap, tap…

Merlin's fingers were restless, picking up the pace the very second Arthur's name had crossed across his thoughts. He was trying to do something new for himself, where he didn't think about Arthur during all his minutes of the day, and what a fucking creep the prince was. Just because Merlin thought about how absolutely awful he was, probably more than he sure since Arthur freaked him out, didn't mean he had any stupid crush on him. Morgana'd been absolutely out of line, and completely off base with her assessment of the situation. That whole 'crush thing' Merlin had, was over and done with. It had been killed off when Arthur switched out his favor for another, Merlin just hadn't realized how bad it would get until later on…

Tap, tap, tap…his fingers were faster, pushing harder and harsher against the countertop. Grounding, firm, resilient…and in other words, everything that Arthur bloody Pendragon wasn't…motherfuc…

"Here we go, a meal after the week you've had would be the best thing to get you back to normal." Said the physician, sliding Merlin's meal onto one of the plates he had situated in front of him. Merlin glanced up, as the smell hit him, and his stomach rumbled. He didn't want to ask how Gaius knew Merlin wasn't feeling all that great, depression was a hard thing to be able to push through even when things didn't look as awful as they had been yesterday, but Merlin didn't exactly look like the same upbeat kid that had shown up on his doorstep probably had something to do about it. But Merlin was hungry, and his eyes locked onto the plate of food Gaius was picking up. He hadn't been taking care of himself this last week, he had probably missed more meals than he cared to admit, but that wasn't an issue. Merlin was used to going a couple of days without food. "I've managed to corral some fish from the castle kitchen's, they do look to be in quite excellent shape. Not bad for a meal to celebrate your winning."

Merlin didn't bother mentioning how he didn't feel much like celebrating, crawling into his bed to sleep for another week sounded like the better option. But it wasn't the feasible choice, and Merlin watched as Gaius carried both plates over to Merlin. He set one down in front of his own chair, and the second plate in front of Merlin. Merlin's eyes fell down to his plate, and saw the black fish-seared completely though as the meat was still sizzling in places-laid out across it on some type of fancy lettuce that would have been hard pressed to find in Ealdor.

"Thank god, I'm starving…" Merlin lied right straight through his teeth. His stomach had been rumbling to him a second ago, the smell trying to urge him into a feast. But now that his eyes were actually on it, could see the fish eyes looking up at him, it was that exact smell that seemed to turn his stomach. But he knew better then to turn away food, and Gaius had gotten this meal together himself to celebrate Gwen getting released. It wasn't just a commoner's meal all thrown together from whatever Gaius had stashed away in his cupboards. It was a bit more fancier than the food they usually ate. And Merlin wanted to be normal, he wanted to be able to eat these fancy foods without getting depressed that he was eating at all, when he should just be thankful he had food in his belly. "This looks really good, I can't wait to dig in."

Merlin's stomach still wasn't settled, but he picked up his fork and knife anyway, not wanting Gaius to be concerned about him. Happy…he was supposed to be happy…which is why Merlin cut into his fish, more exuberantly then a normal person would. Merlin was able to feel Gaius watching him as he took his seat at the table across from him, but Merlin didn't bother to look up. He kept his head down low, towards his meal and slid the bite sized piece of fish past his lips, and using his teeth to drag it off the fork. Merlin could've sworn it tasted like ash on his tongue, and when he finally got around to swallowing it, it felt whole in his belly. Like a weighted stone that made him want to shove his plate away before he got too sick. There was nothing wrong with the steamed fish, the thing would have actually been the best meal ever…if he was normal. But depression was a bitch, and Merlin was already thin enough, and…he really didn't want to eat. But he knew he probably should simply since he hadn't had anything for a while.

Merlin glanced up before he could stop himself, and saw that Gaius hadn't tried any of his own food now. He was just looking at Merlin…maybe Merlin had fell into his meal with a bit more excitement than he had thought he had. Trying to not get Gaius concerned…had only made him confused. Merlin pointed his fork down at his meal, "I was right, this is really good. I do not think I've had a meal like this in…forever…" Merlin trailed off, knowing he hadn't had a meal like this one ever. Food back home wasn't exactly the best on the planet, but Merlin had at least been able to swallow it without too much difficulties. Merlin glanced down at his food again, and quickly cut himself another piece of it, stuffing the bite into his mouth. Forcing the bits of fish as the ashy flavor spread across his tongue to the side of his jaw so he could talk, Merlin started off quickly, rambling, "This is really good. It tastes like…just like fish. So…wet, the juices…you know…" and he stopped, eyes falling onto his plate as a new thought struck him out of the blue. "…this didn't come out the water, did it?" He jutted his fork back down towards the fish.

Merlin was pretty sure he was going to be sick, and it had absolutely nothing to do with how depressed he was. It felt a little too…soon…to be eating things that came out of the water. Sure, it was clean now, but it didn't stop Merlin from seeing that muck monster as it swim around in it. Spreading along it's poison and muck as if it was feces. And okay, maybe Merlin had used some water to scrub himself down, but that was completely different. For one, Merlin had made sure none of it had gotten anywhere near one of the holes on his face, so he didn't get anything in his body. And two, he'd made sure the cloth was steaming before it had touched along his body, which was pretty much boiling the cloth. For the sole purposes of burning all diseases or ill-matter that might've been clinging into the water. He wasn't putting the cloth in his rag, and he wasn't licking up the water as it tried to drip along his lips. Not like this fish that was inside of him, that was going down his throat and settling inside of his stomach. Whatever water or liquid used that was still clinging to it after being placed on his plate seemed to make him ill just imagining it.

"Well, where else is it going to come from?" Gaius said to him, in an obvious tone, reminding Merlin that there was nowhere else for the fish to have came out of. Merlin still didn't have to like it though. He'd heard of rich people who kept fishes in their room, in large buckets as exotic pets. Something to show how rich they were, because they didn't need to hire anybody to go to the lake/river/pond to catch his dinner. It was all right there, fresh fish whenever they wanted it. He hadn't seen anything like that the very few times he'd been in Arthur's room, but there were plenty of other nobles running around the place. One of them had to have something like that, fresh fish swimming around in water that had been taken out of the pipes before it had been contaminated. "Besides, the water is fine now. So you can rest easy, and know that you aren't going to wake up tomorrow with your veins popping blue along your neck."

Merlin knew he was being stupid, though waking up with the spider veins creeping along his neck wasn't the worse thought in the world. There was always a chance that Gaius was just a delusion of Merlin's, he had concocted after taking one too many blows into the head from Arthur, and he would wake back up in his room in the Royal suite. Bare, and empty, and far too big for somebody who's always slept in an entire hut that was half the size of that room. He nodded to his uncle, before forming himself to swallow the bite already in his mouth. It didn't go down his throat any easier than the first bite had.

"Well, you don't have to look as if you're strangling yourself." Gaius pointed out dryly, which was actually a poor choice of words when one thought about the implication behind them, but it was probably exactly what Merlin looked like. He couldn't imagine eating a whole plate of this. He couldn't imagine eating only a single bite more. But those were his own issues, and had nothing to do with the meal itself. "If the meal is that bad, you can always just have somebody bring you something else down from the kitchens. If that guard is still outside, maybe he'll do it."

But Gaius had a very pinched look on his face, as if he would think very little of Merlin if he turned up his nose at a perfectly good meal. But Gaius obviously didn't understand that it wasn't about the meal, just about food in general. Merlin would not have been able to stomach even his mother's potato soup-and that was his favorite meal of hers. And Merlin found himself scrunching up his nose in distaste, feeling as if it would look like he was allowing this whole Royal thing go to his head. Only someone self-entitled and unaware of how hard it was for some people to get a bite of food at all, would throw out the fish just to go and get something else.

"…No thanks, I think I'll just stick with the fish." Merlin said, going back to cutting himself another bite sized piece. His stomach lurched, nauseated at the idea of eating another bite, but he put it into his mouth, and under Gaius' watchful stare, started to chew. Slowly and methodically, acting more on auto-pilot then he was actually aware of his movements. And when he had broken it up enough, Merlin swallowed. It went down his gullet just as hard as any of the other ones he'd eaten. "The kitchens have really gone and done outdid themselves. It's covered in spices I'm pretty sure I've never had before. And it's all crispy, and it's …it's just really good."

Merlin forced himself to stop when he realized that the physician was now raising an eyebrow at him. He could feel the blush trying to burn its way across his face when he realized he was rambling again. Gaius didn't want to hear Merlin going on about the fish, he obviously knew how his own fish was cooked. And he would probably get suspicious if Merlin continued to talk. He didn't want to eat, and didn't want his uncle to worry about him more than he already was. Merlin was trying to not give Gaius any unneeded stress in his life, stress that Merlin had given him. But he did want to sit here with his uncle, have conversation's together that did not include Merlin's role in life. The last thing he wanted to hear was that his new Royal lifestyle could afford him new meals whenever Merlin wanted them. He needed to be normal, needed to be able to sit here and have a conversation that wasn't about him or how everything sucked. Forget all about his problems for once…

But alas, that was not in the cards…

"Well anyway, the water is the least of our concerns." Gaius started up, grabbing his own utensils before he was cutting into his fish, making bite sized pieces of his own. Merlin lifted an eyebrow at him, because he didn't really understand what he mean. Was his uncle referring to Arthur? But Gaius had sounded like there was something more specific in his mind. Not just the general 'Arthur'. But at least this gave Merlin another thing to focus on, an excuse not to eat one more bite as he turned his full attention onto the man. Seeing it was Merlin's undivided attention on him, this started the physician up again, "We know that the spell was cast by a very powerful sorcerer. And we can assume that once they know all of their spell work has been undone, they might very well try something else. We can only hope that you yourself, didn't draw attention from them."

Gaius spoke very carefully, making sure not to utter Nimueh's name. He knew very well that she'd been behind all of this, but he didn't want Merlin to get all entangled within Nimueh's schemes. And knowing his nephew as he did, Gaius was sure Merlin would jump headfirst into looking for anything about her he could. It was dangerous, and while Merlin did have a powerful array of magic behind him, Nimueh had the experience that he lacked. If Merlin ever came face to face with the sorceress, then Merlin would most likely lose. Gaius had to protect his nephew, even if it meant lying to him by omitting certain details.

"I doubt they noticed me at all." Merlin said, scoffing at the mere thought as he harshly stabbed one of the bite sized pieces in his plate. Just to have something to do with his hands, though he also didn't put it into his mouth either. Merlin only had the attention he did because people were waiting for what his newest or latest screwup would be. He wasn't even able to get his own husband's attention unless Merlin had done something to 'wrong him'. Which basically meant just walking out onto the street by this point. He doubted some sorcerer who had absolutely nothing to do with him, had paid close enough attention to Merlin doing all the background stuff. Arthur and Morgana hadn't even noticed him doing magic right in front of them, so how was a stranger from god-knows-where, was able to see something everybody else missed? Yeah, Merlin was fairly confident he was safe. At least from the sorcerer. "I mean, if people can't even see what I am when I'm right in front of them, do you expect me to think they've somehow noticed?"

Merlin knew he was being self-deprecating again, on his sad little carriage ride all on his lonesome. But the emotion was pretty much habit by this point, if Merlin was able to find something to complain about, then it would be found. But could you blame him, when one thought of the two months he'd had? He was just so …emotionally wrung out. Sensitive. Everything made him sad in one way or the other, and maybe it was his ever growing depression that was trying to take over him by ruining everything. Merlin didn't like being all sad, but he wondered if he even had the choice with his emotions at all.

Before Merlin could think his next move through, the consort was allowing his fork to slip through his own fingers, the clanging sound making a burst come out of Merlin, "This sorcerer isn't concerned about me. I don't see why they would be, it's not like anybody is appreciating my skills. I just want-" Merlin cut himself off abruptly, realizing he had probably said more then he wanted too. But he'd already gotten most of it out and it seemed silly to not finish that train of thought. Especially with Gaius looking at him, Gaius had been meant to be his safe space. Even if he didn't want to worry Gaius, at least he knew anything he said would remain between them. Gaius wasn't going to run off and inform Arthur of his innermost thoughts, not like that farmer had ran off to inform the prince of where Merlin was, on his land doing stupid gardening over zucchini that probably didn't even exist. "…I just want someone to see me for who I am."

Merlin knew he should be grateful that many people fell for what they first saw. The clumsy oaf of a boy who didn't know how to stay out of trouble if he had been paid-which Arthur had tried to do several times over already. It was his mask, his safety net, nobody could see past it long enough to recognize just how much raw power Merlin had swirling around inside of his veins. It kept him safe, and hidden in plain sight, but was it really too much for people to recognize he wasn't a total failure. Even if people didn't see what he could do, couldn't they at least back off. Couldn't Arthur himself at least show a bit more gratitude that Merlin wasn't totally useless. But no. All he wanted to do was give Merlin a rip-off of his box, and start one more fight with him before they parted ways. Merlin hoped Arthur recognized that he had gotten the last word in their conversation, but he doubted he did.

Merlin wasn't lying though. If Arthur's verbal abuse stepped up it's game-so far he'd only been pushing or pinning or throwing Merlin around when it came to the physical part-then he really would rein hellfire on him. Even if he currently felt as if there was no spark inside of him to light the fires inside of his belly that would be necessary to carry on such an act. But the consort doubted Arthur would heed his warning, he'd never put much stock in what Merlin said anyway.

"One day, Merlin." Was Gaius' sage advice toward his nephew, shaking his head and standing up, starting to pick up his plate. Merlin blinked, surprised, since somehow, Gaius had already managed to finish off his entire dinner. And Merlin looked down at his own, realizing he hadn't even left a dent in his fish. He had not managed to get through half of it, only a few little bites hear and there to starve off any bits of lingering hunger he might have. It had been enough for him for sure. Gaius finished off what he was saying with this slow exhale. "You'll see Merlin, one of these days."

Merlin watched as Gaius apparently decided he was done with his food as well-though he was, but he just assumed Gaius would try and get him to eat far more then he had-and took his plate with him to set off to the side to be washed later, dumping the food out on his way. Most foods should be saved, one never did know when their next meal was going to be, but that was probably part of the Ealdor side of Merlin, trying to whisper in the back of his mind. But fish would not ever be a good food to save. It rotted too quickly, and it stunk up the whole house, and could cause people to get sick if they ate it too late. It was one of the few reasons they didn't fish in the river that ran near the village, why fish was more for special occasions. The thing practically needed to be eaten within an hour of catching it, and people didn't always have time to go worrying over rather or not they could eat it in time or if the time spent catching it had just been a waste as it went bad.

"…What do you mean?" Merlin asked softly, feeling it when his stomach clenches in alarm. He didn't know what Gaius meant by his 'one day' comment? Merlin might be missing something here, but he just wasn't able to put his finger on it. One day he'd…become a real Royal when Arthur ascended to Kinghood, as the blacksmith Tom had said as he bowed before him. Or one day he…would be allowed to go back home? That was one possibility Merlin wasn't going to be holding his breath for, but it was still a nice dream. One little dream that not even Arthur had been able to wretch from him, even if it was next to impossible. "What is going to happen one day?" He finally demanded his uncle to tell him, when he realized he couldn't deal with the tension any longer.

Merlin waited with baited breath for the older man to give him an answer, even as more and more thoughts of what 'one day' could consist of started flooding in his mind all over again. Like a tsunami crashing along the shore of his mind, feeling him up with impossible dreams of what 'one day' would be. One day…would he be able to live his own life? Away from the people who hated and tormented him, somewhere that was quiet and isolated. Merlin didn't like isolation, but he would prefer it if he couldn't go back home. Maybe a select few people would be allowed to visit him, if so they could chase away the loneliness that was often plaguing him. One day, he would be able to practice his magical craft in the middle of the street, and not a single person would blink an eye of horror. And able to live without being prosecuted for it. But that would be even less of a chance then living by himself would be. Because who cares what the dragon said, Arthur wouldn't bring magic back. As long as their would be a Pendragon sitting on the throne, Merlin would not ever be free to be himself.

But Merlin could still hope, in the silence of his mind where nobody could laugh at him for having childish dreams. Dreams that would allow him to fly far away from all of this. Just like the birds that would fly past his window, the freedom lifting their wings in a way Merlin could never capture.

"One day, probably many years from today, all these people will be able to see the real you." Gaius said in a firm tone, stopping by Merlin's side before he past him by. This life of segregation, and these times that had people terrified of the unnatural, wasn't meant for a boy like Merlin. Not Merlin, who was meant to thrive, was meant to be greater than all of them. So, Merlin had made his mistakes in the time Gaius had known of his existence, but he had also strived to get them fixed. Many people could break things, could've gotten Gwen arrested for any number of things, and not blink an eye. But it took somebody powerful and strong, kind and determined, to go out of their way to fix what they had broken. Most people didn't bother to go out of their way to fix it, content to leave all the destruction in their wake without bothering to try and make the world a better place. It would always be far easier to break others, but it took someone far more braver then Gaius knew, to correct all of his mistakes. "One day, these people will not believe what an idiot you are being right now."

Gaius wasn't being ugly by calling Merlin an idiot, he was just saying it like it was. Merlin was this powerful man, and a power like that was never meant for being contained. One day, that power would be revealed to everybody, and Gaius would be proud to stand onto the sidelines and tell people that this is 'my nephew'. And Gaius wasn't talking about his magic. Gaius was talking about all those personality traits his nephew had: kindness, determination, strong…brave. Those were the kind of traits that changed the world. Gaius wanted a bright future for his nephew, and he would love to see what he does with his power in the near future. As long as he had learned from his mistakes, as this entire ordeal had been, of course…somebody had to nurture those traits of Merlin, after all. Merlin was still quite young, and he needed the guidance.

"…Thanks…" Merlin said, with an involuntary grin at the dry wit of his uncle's. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to make of this, but he could appreciate the dry humor that matched his own. The Knight Gregory hadn't appreciated it when he'd gone a similar route. His facial muscles though, almost felt strained…it felt too odd, to alien, to smile nowadays. As if an alien has taken over his body, and deemed it unfit for him to ever smile. But he liked it, even with knowing it wouldn't last long. "I'll be sure to keep on remembering that…"

If this had been anybody else calling Merlin out as the idiot that he was, he would have thought it was just somebody else trying to make him out to be the butt of the joke. But Gaius wasn't like that. It could even be seen as a cruel joke, for Gaius to make the consort wish for such a future: where one day, he'd be proud to walk the streets of Camelot. To be who he was…Merlin would always be grateful that Gwen was free, but he didn't see the same happening for him. He might not have been cast in a cell, but Merlin still had his own bars around him. And Merlin could only see things getting worse and worse in the days to come. People got bolder the longer they went on without being stopped, and Merlin figured it wouldn't be too much longer before it was no longer safe for him to leave at all. But Gaius wouldn't judge him, not unless he did something to deserve it. And actually deserved it, like nearly getting Gwen killed. Not for just walking into the room like most people. Like Him.

Merlin pushed himself away from the table harshly, as his smile disappeared completely when the Him thought, started trying to break through the weaken barriers of his mind, where he had pushed it back to keep at bay. The sound of the bench he was on gave a loud screech sound as he made it scrape along the floor, but Merlin ignored it and rode to his feet. "I've had a long day, Uncle. I think it's probably best that I go upstairs and get some rest. Fighting beasts and arguing with kings, you know…it's definitely enough to tire out a guy completely." And Merlin hurried past his uncle, taking the stairs two at a time towards his room.

He'd go anywhere, so that Gaius wouldn't be able to tell his depression was getting worse. To tell that his thoughts kept flying back to Arthur, and making him feel worse then he had before. How was he meant to know that his quick exit, only made the old physician and his worries grow more. Gaius watched him leave with a heavy frown, before sighing, and went about with his nightly duties. As much as Gaius wanted to follow, there had been a reason Merlin had retreated to his room. He was a teenager, after all. And it was a common fact that teenager's could be moody, prone to outbursts that made no sense to anybody else…he only hoped he wasn't making a mistake by giving him this time alone.

X

Arthur Pendragon closed the door in Gregory's face, his eye twitching annoyed. He'd been getting himself prepared for bed, and he wore what he always wore on the hotter nights: a simple pair of soft black sleep pants. During the colder nights, Arthur would usually wear a long, loose fitting white shirt as well. And the prince usually had Morris around helping him dress, but Arthur hadn't felt like calling for him. And this did turn out to be a good call when Gregory had shown up outside his door, explaining Merlin had dismissed him from his position as guard with Arthur's word.

Bloody hell, Merlin really was a brat, Arthur thought grudgingly, as he turned away from the door. Taking charge and dismissing his men as if they were one of his own, Arthur should give him a firm smack on the bottom for that one. And another two, for sending up the knight to his room. It was like Merlin 'wanted' for Arthur to know he was being a brat. But no…the man ripped the covers off his bed, preparing to climb into the sheets…Arthur couldn't spank him. Arthur didn't get to whip him into submission, or teach him what is and isn't acceptable. Didn't have Merlin whispering breathy 'sorry's' and 'I'll be good', between each firm smack across his bottom. Because apparently that is 'abuse'.

Where did fucking Merlin get off, Arthur thought, and huffing, leaned back against his headboard. With his sheets splayed out across his legs, Arthur lifted one of his arms over his head, and stared up at the top of his canopy, annoyed expression on his face, musing over the past hour or so. Merlin…Merlin's cold gaze on him flashed into his mind, the way he said what he wanted to say, and then walked off without one more word on the matter…Arthur shook his head.

Merlin apparently considered proper discipline to be abuse, which was such a childish thought. All Arthur had said was he would 'strike him down' and the boy had to go off in a tizzy about it. It was Arthur's way of saying 'discipline him', but Merlin acted as if he was going to kill him. Nobody ever died from getting only a few simple swats across their lower cheeks. It's not as if Arthur was going to jump into the big stuff, like tying him up and keeping him like, at his direct mercy for days on end. Arthur was willing to be generous, to start them off with something slow. Arthur knew that Merlin wasn't 'experienced' with being punished-he better not be, or Arthur would have to track down the man that laid hands on the consort before the prince got his chance-so he was willing to start them off in a 'first step' before working Merlin up to the bigger and more dangerous ideas his mind had overtaken him with. But Merlin couldn't even be grateful for it…

True, Merlin didn't exactly understand what it was that Arthur had intended to do to him, but that was also completely beside the point. Arthur had every right in the world to sling Merlin over his knee, and teach him proper. Nobody would blink an eye…but Merlin had to ruin it with his whole 'abuse' claims. It was distasteful to Arthur, who thought discipline and abuse were obviously two very distinctive things that had no bearings on the other. For one, the prince was Merlin's husband. It was his god given right, from the moment they finished their ceremony, to treat Merlin as he pleased.

If Arthur had managed to go through with his original plan of dragging Merlin back to his rooms, he could have been prepared to keep the very distinct line that was between 'abuse' and 'discipline' from crossing. If Merlin had addressed his concerns to him in a more neutral, let's have a conversation about what is and what isn't okay, then Arthur could have been aware of the problem before they started. Arthur could've kept an eye on Merlin's reactions as he spanked him, watching for when 'too much' became 'too much.' He could have kept himself from crossing that line easily.

He was a prince, Arthur knew very well, how to hold himself back when the situation called for it.

But Arthur did find it extraordinarily difficult to stop himself whenever Merlin was concerned. He'd came close already-so many times-to finally getting to do it…but Merlin would actually have to know what the prince was planning on doing so he could tell Arthur how far their first session could go. Arthur might've been willing to listen, being that it was their first one, though that would have to change once they had got more practice in. Once Arthur held the whip, then he should be the one to decide how far Merlin could go. How long they could do it. How hard Arthur should've been allowed to push. Before deciding for himself on rather or not Merlin had enough…

But Arthur wasn't bringing this up to Merlin. Never.

He was more of a man of action, then a talker. Arthur was sure Merlin would get the message once he got them started off…maybe…Arthur brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes and groaning, deep under his throat. He should not be thinking these things at all. He should not be thinking of pushing Merlin down until his belly rested across Arthur's legs. He should not be thinking of undoing Merlin's pants, and being the one to shove them down to his knees so that the prince didn't have anything blocking him from what would be his canvas.

It wouldn't be abuse…

It was discipline…

A knock sounded on the door, jolting Arthur up, and almost off his bed in horror. He stared at the door as if it was about to come alive and come at him with a blade. But no, Arthur was just being stupid, and the prince shook his head. There was no chance of being caught thinking of disciplining Merlin, his face alone wouldn't give it away. Even if the thoughts entrapped him-Merlin's face red as blood filled his cheeks, and mouth falling open with horrid gasps, his body being thrown forward with each sharp smack of a hand on his bottom-but they were smothered down with the word 'abuse'. There had to be a way to get Merlin to see disciplining wasn't 'abuse'. It was simply Arthur teaching Merlin what he should be doing…but how to do that without getting into the whole thing? Merlin would surely freak out if Arthur just came right out with it, and said he wanted to spank him.

Arthur himself still freaked himself out whenever he thought about it too hard. But after deciding he was never going to think these thoughts again-during the first time Arthur had heard Merlin refer to him pinning him down as 'weird'-and then realizing he could think of nothing else, even with their lives on the line…the prince had decided it would probably be best not to think of it too much. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Arthur thinking of Merlin in this context. Sure, people could think of it as a weird sex thing-it wasn't, but Arthur could see how people would think that-but Merlin was Arthur's husband. He had every right in the world to do whatever he wanted to him.

Just nothing that made Merlin see him as abusive…

And nothing weird.

A whip across his backside didn't mean Arthur would start trying to kiss him….the prince's nostrils flared in disgust at the thought.

The knocker returned, banging a bit harder onto his door to get his attention, and Arthur loudly cleared his throat, "Come in!!" He called out to them, as he rearranged his sheets around him. Unless there was another emergency going on, only one person would be arriving this late at night. And true enough, Morris wondered into the room, with a laundry basket being neatly tucked under his arm. At least that explained why Arthur had to get himself dressed for the night. It wasn't something he usually did on his own, but he had managed without Morris' help. Wouldn't Merlin be proud, didn't he once compare Arthur to a child for needing somebody to help prepare him for these things?

Arthur wasn't a child. He was a man. And it was his right to live with the perks somebody of his status was able to afford. Merlin himself could have his own manservant do it as well if he was so inclined too, but Arthur wrinkled his nose at the thought. He hoped for his sake, that George wasn't currently undressing the consort himself. If Arthur ever managed to lay hands on that flesh, he didn't want Merlin to be accustomed to being dressed by George. It would be quite hard to explain what the fading red marks across Merlin was.

"Sire! I have just heard the good news! It has been spreading among the servants faster than a wildfire would have been!" Morris exclaimed, dropping down his basket of fresh clothing at the foot of the prince's bed. Arthur being in bed, and obviously preparing to sleep, did nothing to deter any of the excitement that was leaking out of Morris's body. Arthur stared down the manservant, unimpressed and a bit agitated. The prince could have been lulling himself to sleep to the tune of plans and ideas whipping through his mind to find different ways of easing Merlin into a much more heavy handed lifestyle. Ways to convince him Arthur wouldn't be abusing him by hitting him. A hit and the spank Arthur had in mind would be two very different things indeed. Not listening to Morris start rambling on about things Arthur was ready to put to bed. "You must tell me rather or not it's true? Has the sickness passed on? Is it truly over with? Are we safe now?"

Well then, Arthur thought grudgingly, realizing that word had gotten out much faster than he thought it would have. But that was Camelot for you. Once one thing happened, half the city seemed to know about it a minute later. Arthur supposed he could have told Morris 'no', he didn't have to tell Morris a damn thing. He could just wait for the king's announcement to be heard like everybody else. Just because Morris was working for Arthur, didn't mean he deserved to have the first hand accounts being spilled to him. But…this was Arthur's duty. To make sure his people knew the kingdom was safe. And it's not as if the thing was still an on-going investigation, that would need all of their information to be held closely to the chest. It didn't really matter now, Arthur supposed.

"…Yes, you've heard right. Everything has been fixed, and things will be returning to normal over the course of the next few days." Arthur said, watching as Morris started picking up the clothes he had taken off a few minutes earlier. Arthur had left them out on the floor, as it was Morris' job to pick up after him. Cleaning up his floor was the least he could do, since Morris had not been there to dress him properly. "My father will be making an announcement in the morning. And we have Gaius on standby, preparing to do final checks on people who have already contacted the sickness. Once they've gotten a clean bill of health, the gates will be opened back up. And traffic can resume going on between the lower town and the inner city."

Morris brightened up, somehow looking even more exuberant than he had been moments before. Arthur scowled, finding himself bothered by this, because it caused something to stick out in his mind. The way Merlin had been complaining about him showing a bit more gratitude for finding the beast for them. He had not shown any gratitude to Merlin for saving the lives of his people, though Arthur doubted the boy would deserve it. He had accused Arthur of abusing him, so that practically drowned out whatever good things he might have done before. Like a scale: on one side of it held the very limited things Merlin had done that he would be willing to call good. And then there was the badder things that got underneath his skin, weighing it down almost to the ground.

"Oh, then this is a day of celebration! A happy day! I believe you should take the time to celebrate come the morning! It's such a huge achievement, and I do believe my prince has earned taking some time for himself!" Morris rambled on, sounding as if he was trying far too hard to get on Arthur's good side. The prince simply rolled his eyes, used to Morris and his simpering ways, watching as the manservant got to work. Pulling out one of Arthur's tops out the basket he had walked in with. Shaking out any wrinkles that may have formed in the fabric on the walk over, the manservant continued talking as he strode over the room to hang it up in his wardrobe, tugging the door of it open with gleeful praises still falling off from his lips. "And I do hope this isn't too forward of me, but may I accompany you on whatever endeavor you will choose to spend your celebration on doing?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste, because no. This was not going to be happening, at all, ever. He could not be seen with his servant as if they were 'friends', and that was how Morris had sounded. As if he was trying to ask Arthur to hang out with him, or at least let him tag alone to whatever Arthur was doing. The prince had enough of Morris whenever he actually needed him. He couldn't imagine hanging out with him for any other reason then Morris running along to get him stuff. Besides, the only celebrating that the prince planned to do was catching up on as much of his sleep as he could. And grumble under his breath about how Merlin wanted to get himself killed, since he had sent Gregory away. But he would just have to let Merlin see from his own mistakes. Maybe when an assassination attempt hit, he would see things like he did.

"It was in large efforts of our consort, that we were able to find the beast at all." Arthur didn't know why he felt the sudden urge to announce this, but he did. The prince straightened up in his bed, and watched as Morris slowed down, his hands on Arthur's clothes and hangers moving with less urgency. But there, the reason for Arthur suddenly announcing this became clear to him. Merlin had been complaining about the prince being more concerned about other things like the box, but at least in some way, he could give the brat a bit of credit. Even if it was only in front of the manservant. And how could Merlin complain Arthur was 'abusing him' when the prince was giving him a bit of recognition for once. It was a win/win situation, and only encouraged Arthur to continue spewing his crap, "If I deem myself with the time to spare during the next few days, then I believe I will only celebrate with my consort at my side. As it is meant to be when two people are married to the other."

Arthur knew he wouldn't be spending the next days with Merlin, he needed this time to think on how he'd introduce Merlin to non-abusive discipline, and there was no way he could do that with a clear head if that consort of his was constantly in his face. Hellfire the consort would rein, indeed. But at least Morris would not try to follow him if he thought Arthur required just a bit of alone time with his husband. Usually, the man would recoil in horror if anybody thought he wanted to be alone with his consort, as that indicated they'd be doing things not meant for the public's eyes. But Arthur figured it was just Morris. And it would be cold in hell before Arthur allowed a servant to dictate his actions. If he wanted to claim he was spending a day out with his consort-with the added bonus of Morris getting the message 'do not follow'-then he would.

"Of course, sire." Morris said, not looking back at the prince as he fitted another shirt onto another one of his hangers, hanging the delicate fabric onto the pole slung across the inside of the wardrobe. Just like the servant should, being proper and subservient toward his master. It wouldn't do for Morris to ask anymore questions like where or what they would be doing on this false outing. Nor would it do for a servant like he was, to whine about not getting to come. Or trying to find an excuse as to why Arthur needed him. He was pleased by this. "I do hope that wherever you do take your consort, that he quite enjoys himself."

Morris' voice had sounded off, strained, Arthur was able to detect. But the prince wrinkled his nose with distaste again, Morris had made it sound as if Arthur was going to take Merlin on some kind of outing…or a date, in other words. What a horrific concept it would be, the idea of taking Merlin on anything that could have been seen as a date. What would Arthur even do with Merlin on such an ill encounter, the prince did doubt the experience would be anything like the lady or two Arthur had taken out before. When he'd been instructed on taking the daughter of a noble out, and show her a good time while Uther wowed the father in the castle. But no matter, the thought was stupid, and Arthur found it far too easy to banish it out of his mind. Husbands they might be, but dating was out of the question.

Instead, Arthur found himself focusing on Morris in his latest attempt to get his mind off of the consort and his outrageous claims. But…that only made his thoughts worse, as Arthur realized something. And the prince narrowed his eyes sharply, this dangerous light appearing in his irises as he took in the servant before him. Morris didn't seem to realize the prince was watching him so closely, content on bending and picking up the next garment out of the bucket. A pair of pants this time, and Morris with his back to Arthur, carefully folded them before placing them where the pants usually went inside of the wardrobe.

"You know, with everything that's been going on this past week, there are some things I haven't been able to put much stock in. But now that everything is over and done with, I don believe it's time that I should be able to find the time to look into certain matters that have escaped me before." Arthur said casually, while sliding himself to the edge of his bed. Morris still did not seem to notice, as Arthur quietly moved until one of his feet was touching the floor. "What do you think of that Morris? Should I look into certain matters with a more focused eye? Or should I just let things go, so that I can enjoy the peace while it is lasting?"

Arthur watched as Morris' hand froze, clenching and unclenching around the fabric of Arthur's underwear, the next article of clothing he was pulling out of that bucket. Categorizing every minute movement he may have allowed his earlier anger to ignore. But he didn't allow that this time. He had a clear mind, and he was going to be using that mind to keep a better eye onto Morris. After all, as grudgingly as the prince hated to admit it…Merlin wasn't a liar. He was a million things all in one, but he wasn't a liar. Merlin hadn't just been making things up when he came to him about seeing the beast. He hadn't just been throwing things to try and find the one thing that would stick. Merlin put in the actual work, and discovered the truth. The least Arthur could do was a little investigating of his own.

"Oh, I think that you deserve all the peace you could get while you still can! You never know when the next crisis or issue is going to pop up, and you won't get a chance to rest up. Don't think I haven't notice you've been staying up late this past week." Morris told the prince, turning around with a smile, looking positively gleeful. Because 'Arthur' had came to him for advice, came to him instead of his own husband. And maybe Morris was just looking for reasons, but that would've had to mean something. Like a failing marriage? That practically tickled Morris' insides but he stopped just long enough to turn himself serious. After all, Arthur needed to know Morris had some leadership qualities in him, far more than his peasant consort had. "But if you think there is something else going on here, then maybe you should take a look. Even if it's something little now, it could grow into a much larger problem if you decided to ignore it for the time being."

Morris was feeling very proud of himself, hoping the prince would remember his advice and think of him fondly. He never got opportunities like this, to be able to show off a bit of his diplomacy side, or leadership qualities he had been cultivating over the last couple of years. And Arthur seemed to be taking what he'd said to heart, if the contemplative expression on the prince's face as he slowly nodded his head was any indication. Morris grinned, though it did look a touch too much of a smirk, before he was bending down to grab up another shirt. Because what would a leader be if they didn't have a bit of a humble streak. And in what world was doing the laundry, not something the humble man would do? Both traits could only work in his favor, at least until he got what he wanted. And all that humble trash could kick the bucket over.

"You know what, I think you are exactly right." Arthur announced, looking quite pleased with Morris' advice in the matter. Morris' grin widened, but he didn't look up from where he was straightening out Arthur's shirt as he put on his act of humbleness, already reaching out to grab onto another hanger. Morris started first, with sliding one of the sleeves onto the hook, when the prince started speaking again. "I think I would like to hear what happened again between you and Gwen and my consort. I was so distracted at the time, you see, I don't think I really had the time to go over all of the facts. I'm sure you understand why I would want to hear the story again."

Morris had once again turned his back to Arthur to put the hanger back in the wardrobe, but this time, his shoulder muscles were noticeably more tenser then they had been moments before. And Arthur was able to see that now, his eyes going down slowly into slits. People who were innocent or didn't have a thing to hide, didn't exactly act nervous. People who were in trouble, or people who were lying…those were the ones that acted nervous. The ones that had just a bit of perspiration gathering on the nape of the neck as they realized they had gotten caught. And there was nothing they could do about it.

"I don't know what you want me to say, sire." Morris said, in a tone that was a bit too casual for Arthur's taste. The manservant acted normal, as if he wasn't being half-accused of having done something wrong against a noble, if Arthur wanted to call Merlin one. It was no matter though, at the moment. Morris pulled out another pair of Arthur's underwear, folding them up to place them inside one of the opened drawers in the wardrobe. "I have already told you everything I've witnessed that day. Your consort was taking liberties with how he behaved among the serving staff. I may even go so far as him taking his position as just one big excuse for abusing the servants. But, I do find I'm deeply sorry for you to have to find out this way, that your consort isn't as sweet as I'm sure he portrays in front of you. But it truly was something that I felt you needed to know."

Maybe this had been something Arthur would need to know, if it was true. If Merlin hadn't insisted that Morris was a liar, Arthur would probably be spending this time trying to enforce on Merlin that he didn't get to pick and choose which parts of royalty he got to keep. He couldn't turn his nose up whenever the prince offered him a pouch of gold, and then go and decide to mistreat his servants as if they belonged to him. Technically they did, but that would be beside the point as Arthur had brought them into their joined marriage. While Merlin hadn't brought one thing into their arrangement. And clearly Morris didn't know a thing he was talking about, because Merlin would be the least 'sweet person' he knew. Sweet people were not going around threatening an incoming 'hellfire' to Arthur's head. He still didn't know what Merlin would plan on doing but he found himself curious enough to wonder. But not so curious that he would give in, and do something that made Merlin claim 'abuse' all over again.

"Yes, you told me everything that you felt I needed to know. It was a good thing, informing me, as I cannot be everywhere at once." Arthur spoke, with this false smile that spoke of devastating storms ahead should he ever catch Morris spreading such falsehood again ever. But Morris didn't seem to catch it, keeping face turned away to hide his own expression as he moved carefully to hang up a more delicate shirt, wanting to not risk ripping the fabric. Arthur barely paid this one bit of mind. "But if I plan on doing something done to my consort, then I need all the details. If I'm going to punish him, then I need to know exactly what I will be punishing him for. I wouldn't want to be softer on him just because I didn't understand the extent of all the damage he's done."

Arthur may have used the word 'punish' but that was the only indication of what Morris would get. Morris may assume that meant the stocks, something that was meant for public humiliation, though nobility was not people that would get caught near it. Or he might think Arthur had his own ideas in mind, though it did matter not what Morris thought. What Arthur wanted to do to Merlin though not for a situation like this one was never going to leave the prince's lips. Things like that were private for several reasons, and Arthur was not going to deem Morris trustworthy with that kind of information. Arthur wouldn't trust…anyone, to get that kind of information. Should the day come where Arthur was finally allowed to do the things he wanted to do to Merlin, nobody would find out about it from him. It wasn't a natural urge to have, Arthur would've been seen as a freak for beating his consort to good behavior this way, instead of using just a much more standard beating that true abusers favored. And the idea that people would know Merlin was vulnerable, or that people would know Merlin had just gotten one of his 'punishments' every time he limped around in attempts to keep his clothing from brushing against the fresh markings along his body…greatly upset him more than he thought it should.

Arthur quite liked the idea of being the only one that would know why Merlin was walking funny. Being the only one that could flash Merlin a smirk whenever the boy tried to sit down on his sore bottom, only to have to wince and sit down more gingerly the he would've usually had to. Every flinch or movement done more carefully then the clumsy Merlin would do on a more normal day would have been categorized inside the prince's mind. And if anybody noticed the straining look on Merlin's face, then Arthur supposed it would be his job to make up some excuse on the spot so he could hide what their earlier activities had been. Less Arthur was in a mood, and found he would take more pleasure in watching Merlin founder around for one of his own excuses.

"Oh, I completely understand, sire! I wouldn't want you to go easier on him! Some people need to know how things work around here!" More explained, with a gleeful tone, as he snatched up another garment in the basket. Morris started to fold it up, not noticing a red piece of cloth sticking out from underneath a top of Arthur's in the basket, standing out almost like one would if they had a sore thumb. "But I fear there's not much more detail then what I told you the first thing, I do fear things may have gotten lost among the heat of the moment though. Maybe we should go and ask Guinevere. She's out of jail now, and has a more calm demeanor. If you're looking for something specific, I would bet that she remembers things more clearly in that regard then I do."

Morris said this all very casually like, brushing out the top to make sure all of the wrinkles out, acting like he had nothing to hide. But Arthur would not be played a fool, and his consort was not a liar, and for some odd reason, Morris thought he could get away with any of this. Morris would be fucking lucky if Arthur didn't go and gut him, just like he had Valiant. He'd had a literal beast roaming around his kingdom, and Morris saw it fit to stir up drama where there was none. Morris was going to be lucky if he kept his job after this. Now the prince was aware of such lies, he could see what the manservant was doing. Using Gwen as a ploy to back up his story, thinking there was no way Arthur would go to another servant when he already had Morris on the sideline, telling him what was going on. The other boy had done the same thing when he had first been telling Arthur about this, and Arthur hadn't seen it fit to follow up. Not when Gwen was being executed for treason and witchcraft, her word wouldn't have been any good to him.

"Morris, I don't pretend to know why you decided to tell me these things." Arthur said, deciding to cut out all the shit. He eyed one of the array of daggers kept out on top of his nightstand, wondering if he wouldn't need it. Not because he thought the manservant was going to be a good enough fighter that Arthur would need to defend himself. Merlin was probably a better fighter then Morris, who'd done nothing that was far more stressful then laundering Arthur's clothing. But he did like imagining skinning Morris alive. And he did have a good arm. One flick of the dagger, and Arthur could have Morris pinned to the wardrobe by his shirt sleeve without even piercing the flesh. "Maybe Merlin has offended you in some way? Or you just don't like my marriage, but your approval means absolutely not a thing to me. But trying to distract me, when there is a literal state of emergency going on could have cost us EVERYTHING!"

The last word came out of Arthur in a scream, almost like a punch had pushed the final word out of him. So this caused Morris to flinch violently, finally turning to the prince, clenching his hand reflexively around the red piece of cloth he had just pulled out of the basket before he realized the gig was up. Arthur watched in a smug satisfaction as Morris seemed to pale, going a ghastly white as he realized how epically he'd just screwed up. And realizing how the last three years of hard work he'd done to become the personal servant of Prince Arthur's, had just gone up in smoke if there wasn't something being done to fix this.

Morris practically threw himself down onto his knees in front of where the prince was now standing at the foot of his bed, his knees banging harshly against the floor as he threw himself onto his belly. And he made sure to throw his arms out over his head, pressing his face against the floor as hard as he could. The stupid red cloth still clenched in his hand, fingers so tight he felt as if he couldn't open them back up to release it if he tried, "I am so sorry, my prince! I have no words to explain my action! I can only hope you find it inside yourself, in your heart, to forgive me for my careless of actions! It was wrong of me to try and distract you, I do not wish harm onto the people of this city! I only thought-"

Morris cut himself off with an abrupt cry of sorrow as he pressed his forehead harder against the floor. This position was undignified, and would most likely leave an imprint of the floor across his forehead, but Morris did not care for such things. He would see the marks as if they were a battle would. He did not care, even if he had to go the extra mile and kiss Arthur's on his feet for him to accept his forgiveness. Being servant to Arthur had been the closest he had ever gotten to the throne, it was practically in his reach. He'd had to reevaluate his plans if Arthur was starting to trust the consort more than him, but…there was only one little problem at a time. Keeping his job. And then deciding what step in his grand scheme he should take next.

"Forgive you? You expect me to forgive you? If I did not know any better, I would say you sound like your a madman." Arthur sneered, wondering if he should just go ahead and grab one of his blades so he would be able to skin Morris alive. Maybe, a sick obsessed part inside of him, wondered if Merlin would be more appreciative if Arthur brought him the manservant's scalp. If it would be better received then the box he'd given him had been. Morris was sniveling down at his feet like a vagrant, but Arthur didn't care. Not one bit did he care about people who thought they could get away with lying to his bloody face. But, before Arthur had the chance to take one of his blades and take his swing at Morris' hand, or his tongue-a liar shouldn't be allowed to speak-his gaze landed onto the cloth in Morris' fist. "What is that?"

Arthur could feel an uptick in his heartbeat, a sheen of surprise lighting up his own features. He might as well have just been a ghost, considering he had not ever expected to see the cloth again. It had been lost to the sands of time…or maybe that was just a bit too dramatic. And the cloth had simply been lost. It was almost poetic in a way, Arthur had been the one that lost it at some point along the way. Only for it to have been returned to his room, freshly clean and looking as if it hadn't gone far this entire time.

Morris seemed to follow his gaze down towards the red cloth in hand, and took this as the reprieve that he needed, "It's your scarf, sire!" The servant moved in a scramble, folding it up into a neat little square of fabric, before holding it out to the prince as if he was presenting a fine jewel. Instead of a ratty old thing…it certainly did not look as ratty as it did before though. Morris seemed to have taken the initiative to fix it up better, the color shining in a way it hadn't been when Merlin had tied it around his bicep that day. "I will be ashamed to admit that I thought of throwing it away, but I would not deem myself important enough to go deciding what His Highness wishes to keep among his belonging's without asking."

Morris said this all very quickly, as if he was hoping Arthur would show him a bit of mercy, many allow the manservant back into his good graces, for not going ahead and throwing something away that he deemed not suitable for a prince to wear. But Arthur wouldn't forget about what Morris had started up, the thin ice Morris had put himself on was starting to crack. And it would not be long before Morris fell through, while forced to abandon every plan he might have made to ensure himself the good life. But for now…Arthur was only able to focus on the thing Morris had brought to him, the thing Merlin liked to harp on about during all of the most inconvenient moments.

"That's not a scarf." Arthur said blandly, decisively in this regard. Scarfs were made different, they were far longer and had more fabric to wrap snugly around his neck. But this cloth was shorter, meant to be tucked in rather than wrapped three or four times about the cold flush of freezing skin. Arthur had not once worn a scarf in his entire life. Camelot was far too warm in the summer's, and even during winter's, there wasn't any need for anything more extra then a thick coat to keep away the frostbite. Maybe somebody should tell Merlin that, maybe he would stop complaining about missing one if he knew there was no need for them in these parts. "That's a neckerchief…"

And there was only one person Arthur knew in all the world who would be stupid enough to wear one. But Merlin would probably be pleased with this, if Arthur bothered to return it to him. On one hand, he would finally stop bringing it up now and again, that entire thing could finally be put to rest, and Arthur wouldn't have to hear of it again. But on the other hand, he did not find himself very inclined on giving it to him after Merlin had called him abusive. It might be prudent to hold onto it for a little bit, make Merlin sweat it out a bit more. And the next thing Merlin tried throwing the incident in his face, Arthur could whip it out and then watch Merlin's shock fester when it was dropped into his hands. Arthur would expect full apologies after it.

"Is that what it is, sire? I found it among your things after the tourney last month. And tossed it into the laundry basket with the rest of your belongings. But I still cannot fathom how such a thing got inside of the cloak you wear. But please sire, I do ask for that you will forgive me for the long weight. It must've gotten pushed down to the bottom of the basket, so I shall apologize if you have been looking for it. But…" the manservant started lowering his hands, with Merlin's neckerchief in grasp, wearing this growing flush of modest embarrassment. "It looks kind of old, and I cannot dare imagine where you might have gotten it front. Maybe it would be best if I have it thrown away after all, with your esteemed permission, of course."

It was obvious that Morris didn't remember the cloth belonged to Merlin, maybe he wasn't as observant as Arthur was or maybe he was just that dumb-peasant people weren't the smartest lumps of wood, after all. Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand-a cold sweat built on the back of his neck-it might look as if something had gone on between himself and his consort. It was of course, expected for the two of them to be together…like that…perhaps Morris would think Arthur had taken it off Merlin for himself to gain access to his neck? And then shoved it into his cloak, afterwards? But either way, it didn't mean Arthur wanted anybody to be thinking he was unable to keep his hands to himself, and had done inappropriate things to Merlin when he should have been preparing for a tourney.

But when Arthur saw Morris trying to take the cloth away, moving back as if he was really about to go to dispose of it, something urged him forward, "No!" He snapped, throwing himself forward. In one movement Arthur was snatching the cloth out of Morris' hands, and holding it almost protectively to his chest. It may have been amusing to see Merlin's face when Arthur bragged about find it, and throwing it away within the same hour, but the idea of Merlin's face was also the same thing that stopped him. He'd be all teary eyed and weepy, Arthur wasn't willing to deal with all of it, So no, Arthur wouldn't be giving Merlin more reasons to spew on about how 'abusive' Arthur was…

Morris seemed just as startled as Arthur was by that aggressive and excessive tone he had taken with the manservant. Even if Arthur had just been yelling mere moments before about Morris' lying to him, the blond had been more furious in the face of the neckerchief. Arthur would have been more courteous towards any other, but Morris was a servant. A servant boy who'd already upset him greatly, and should just be pleased he still had his head attached to his body. The Prince wasn't altogether sure yet that he wouldn't take away the manservant's head.

Arthur cleared his throat, the neckerchief bunching up as he kept it against his chest, "I think I will have to hold onto this for now." He said sharply. Morris did not deserve any other explanation. He did not need to know that this wasn't a simple piece of cloth that Arthur could just buy new. He'd already tried that by getting Merlin's box refurbished, and look where that had gotten him. Forced to comply to three conditions just to get Merlin to keep it. And branded as nothing but an abuser to boot. Merlin didn't understand what the word 'abuse' meant, if he didn't realize the prince could have done so much worse to him then what bit he had.

"Yes, sire." Morris simpered, bowing his head back down to the floor, pressing his forehead against the cold stones in honor of the prince. He knew he was still on thin ice with the prince, and didn't dare try to argue against Arthur's strange fascination for the red cloth. If Arthur wanted to keep such a ratty old thing in hand, then who was Morris to argue. It was clearly an eccentric thing to do, something Arthur as prince could very well afford to do. And one day, that would be Morris. Able to pick and choose whatever clothing he wanted, rather then what little he could afford. But the silence had worn, and Arthur had turned his gaze to the neckerchief, playing absentmindedly with the ends of it. Morris knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself, not when he knew this was probably the biggest screw up he'd made in the prince's service. At least one that they knew about… "Sire…about my position in your court…"

Morris' voice withered and died in his throat before he could get another word out, the look in Arthur's eyes when the prince whipped his head around was enough to silence even him. Morris quickly ducked his head back down before he could invoke anymore of the prince's ire. Arthur hummed somewhere under his breath, looking as if he was now thinking of what he should do next. Banish the liar, or show mercy on an unfortunate soul that had gotten way over his own head. Arthur turned away from him, and Morris was only able to see the prince's bare feet in front of him.

"I want you out of my sight." Arthur said sharply, and turning his back to the manservant. Morris peeked up his head in surprise, startled by Arthur's sudden decision. Morris could feel the beginnings of a smirk starting to appear on his face, because maybe Arthur wasn't as mad as he thought he was. Maybe it meant Arthur hadn't started caring for the consort he had to 'pretend to love' or however he had overheard Uther telling his son that day, when he had been spying on them. But before Morris could get too much ahead of himself, Arthur was continuing in the same sharpness as before, still not looking back at the manservant on his knees, "Due to your otherwise spotless record, I will give you this one and only warning. Remember to hold your tongue from now on, in the presence of my consort, because you will not like me very much the day something like this returns to my attention. And if you think it will be a simple matter, you will be highly mistaken when I have you trialed for working against the crown. Because yes, Merlin is now the crown. I'll trust that you understand the severity of such issues, Morris?"

The only thing Arthur wanted to do right now, was giving himself a minute to muse over what he should do about this neckerchief. Should he go ahead, give it back…Arthur was sure Merlin would actually like it since it was in the same condition it has been in the day Merlin had left it with him. And after how the box had been received, Arthur wasn't going to have it be refurbished, or get a new one ordered. It was obvious that Merlin had no taste or class when one compared these objects to the finer things in life. But, the blond had found himself becoming a spiteful man when he was faced with Merlin's ire. Arthur was not looking to be humiliated again should something go wrong, and Merlin decide his own neckerchief wasn't considered good enough for him anymore.

Arthur barely heard the sound of Morris soft spoken and quiet agreements with what the prince said, yes, he understood. Nor did he hear Morris rising up onto his feet, and the shuffling of steps against the stone as Morris saw himself out of the room. But, the blond did hear the quiet clicking of his door, indicating that Morris had left and Arthur was now alone. Arthur did not even think about it, before he was raising the red cloth to his face, pressing the fabric against his nose and breathing it in deeply. Once, twice, and again for good measure, now that he would not be distrusted.

There had to be something wrong with him, the man decided, as the scent wavered off and into his nostril. He should not be doing this, but it was strangely odd, Merlin hadn't worn this in at least a month, but Arthur could still smell the lingering scent of him clinging to the fabricate desperately. As if itself thought it would never find it's owner if it allowed the last bits of scent to disappear. And it wasn't even a real scent…maybe a hint of fire and flame. The kind of smell that a fire in the hearth would cause, but that wasn't exactly right. It was just the first thing Arthur thought to compare it too. But really…it smelt like the way the outside would after a particularly grueling thunderstorm. The prince had never enjoyed thunder storms, but there'd been something peaceful about the aftereffects. The way there was still a tinge of electricity in the air, the way it crackled but could no longer harm someone if they went in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damp and moist earth meeting the tinge of lightning…

Arthur wrenched the neckerchief away from his face, taking in large gulps of fresh air. But it did nothing as the scent still lingered inside his nose, being invasive and refusing to leave…just like the boy whose scent it belonged to. This…this was dangerous. Arthur should not be doing this, and he should not even know what Merlin smelled like, that was the most disturbing part of this. Being able to recognize it when it had to peek its way through the soap Morris used on his normal clothing. Or maybe Merlin was just naturally pungent and Arthur had never really noticed it before. Either way though, Arthur would need to get rid of it, and he was not about to storm throughout his castle and throw it in Merlin's face. No, he had to be more subtle then that.

Arthur's head whipped around, trying to find where a good place to hide it would be, somehow not even a nosy manservant like Morris would move it. Because what if Arthur played around with the idea of bringing it back to Merlin…and it turned out…Merlin was able to smell himself on it. Arthur did just have the thing pressed onto his face, breathing it in until it was the only thing in the world he could smell. It was possible that his own scent had come off on it. And if this was the case, then…he was never going to allow it to see the light of day again…Arthur's eyes landed onto his bedside table. Perfect.

It only took three large steps for Arthur to stride over to it, and he yanked the top drawer open. The one on top was pretty much his privacy drawer, the place his manservant knew not to bother touching. Not even to clean it out. It had a few unimportant things inside of it, pieces of ripped parchments with poorly executed notes or ideas he had nixed. An extra dagger-Arthur knew one could never be too prepared in case of an attack. A vial of cleanish colored oil that was rarely used but when Arthur did find the time to dig it out, was used for more…private matters. And Arthur felt his face flame, knowing the neckerchief was going to share a home with the oil. But hey, it was also sharing a home with the large ring of about a dozen keys that were entrusted to his protection. To get into places around the kingdom that were off limits to anybody other then the Royal family. So that would make it a little…less weird? Arthur liked to think it did.

Before he could think more clearly on what he was doing, Arthur went to his desk and jerked open the drawer. It only took him a second to locate what was his wedding band. Arthur went back to his bedside drawer and dropped the ring on top of the cloth that was already inside. There, he decided. That definitely did not look…weird. His wedding ring standing out in a sharp contrast of color against the vivid red cloth that was covering up his oil. And his parchment, and his keys! Arthur definitely couldn't forget about all of his non-related Merlin stuff that was in the drawer.

It would probably be best, Arthur decided with a grim resolution, for him to keep his Merlin related items in one place. At least that way, they would all be where Arthur could find them in a pinch. Directly at his right hand, the first thing he could reach from his bed if he needed anything particularly early in the morning. He couldn't imagine why he would need any of the items but they would be there if he did.

Arthur shut the drawer, the soft thud sound the little door made sounding hollow.

Merlin would never have to know that Arthur stole his neckerchief.

X

Merlin would have thought-being unable to sleep no matter how much he wanted to escape into the dark of the night-cleaning his room would have tired him out. His room had never looked cleaner, not with the way Merlin had scrubbed it down from top to bottom. Or at least it would be clean, once his magic finished with it's work. He had some of his clothes currently being rung out over a wash basket, the liquid sliding along the floor. The floor itself was currently being mopped furiously-Merlin didn't even want to wonder what Gaius must have been thinking when the mop from downstairs had animated to life and had walked itself right up to his room. He had his freshly cleaned pair of pants and neckerchief being folded up on the other side of the room mid-air, before flying to their proper place in his wardrobe. He had washcloths that were on his ceiling, scrubbing away the grime as if it had never been there. His bedsheets were pulled up on the bed, tucked in with military like precision, and his window sparkled so much, it almost hurt his eyes.

But it still wasn't enough. Merlin could practically feel the taint still marking every inch of his room. He had not been able to forget the way Arthur had told him he'd came to his room, dug through his things just to find the box so he could ruin it. Merlin didn't have any idea what Arthur had touched, what he had looked at or what else he may have ruined. But everywhere the consort had looked had made him feel violated in the worse of ways. Had Arthur found the box the second he started looking? Or had he taken the time to dig in the room to try and find something on Merlin? Those were questions he didn't know the answers too, and Merlin found that this upset him greatly. It would be best for him to clean the room, and hopefully erase whatever stink Arthur may have left behind.

But it was harder than he thought to erase it. Since he now had Arthur's cloak sitting on the floor of his wardrobe where he had thrown in, intent on not ever allowing it to see the light of day again. And the box as well…Merlin was sitting on the edge of his bed as his pillows were being fluffed in mid-air behind him. He had his chin resting in the palm of his hands, and he stared down the innocent looking box sitting on top of his nightstand. Taunting him. It's white paint job seemed to scream 'look at me! I'm completely brand spanking new! Enjoy me!' Which only made Merlin's disgust worsen.

Merlin couldn't bare to touch it, not anymore. He had just spent the last ten minutes flipping it around and around in his hands, trying to find anything he could that reminded him of the original box. There's been bits and pieces here and there, a nick or two Merlin could only find with his fingers rubbing along it. But from looks alone, one wouldn't have a chance to see those imperfections. Arthur had done a good job at getting everything that made the box 'special' and 'different', covered up. And nobody wanted for him to get started on what was the insides. Merlin had only dug through it for a moment, before seeing the little cloth that now bore Camelot's symbol, instead of the symbol of where he came from. Not even the Arthur doll, open and ready for stabbing, had made him feel better.

He'd slammed the lid of it shut, with his chest feeling so tight it had almost hurt to breathe.

And that was where he was now, staring longingly at the box, trying to ignore the aching in his chest when knowing Arthur didn't have any respect for personal property. Not even getting to work had been enough to distract him from the box…Merlin forced his gaze away so he could look down at the parchment he had opened in front of him. Merlin had no idea how in the world he was going to send this off, people didn't go running past Ealdor often. But he'd done it anyway…just for the hell of it. And it hadn't made him feel any better.

Dear Mother,

The parchment read at the top, before moving onto the rest of the letter. Merlin had heard somewhere a while back, that writing things down could be quite therapeutic. So that was what he had done once he had gotten his room to start cleaning itself. He had pulled out a piece of parchment and started to write it all down. He'd detailed everything to his mother, to tell her how much he hated this place. How much he wanted to go home, because it was awful here. How much Arthur hated him, and all of the horrible, awful things the prince had done to him since he'd been in the city. From the day they met, to Arthur losing his neckerchief, to him lying about nobody being allowed in their rooms, to the box that now sat in front of him like the physical reminder of betrayal that it was.

He'd even detailed his new found aversion when it had came to touching. If his mother understood one thing he was saying about how bad it was, this would be the thing that got her attention. Merlin had used to love touch, he was a very affectionate person. The feel of somebody allowing him to hug them, or being able to pat them on the shoulder and not be looked at with scorn…it had made Merlin feel not so alone in the universe. With secrets like his, most people were already kept at an arm's distance, even if Merlin did not mean to keep them there. Just being odd would sometimes push people away, when all Merlin would be doing was trying to protect his secret. But when he found people that didn't mind how odd he was, as rare as that was, Merlin liked to touch them. Just as a reminder that they were there, they were real, and he had hope that they wouldn't abandon him if they ever found out the truth…

But that was just the childish mindset he had back then.

He didn't feel much like a child now.

But then again, had he ever been? Most people had not spent their entire lives hiding who they were, nor did they always have to be aware of the people who were around them. Or what they were saying to make sure nothing could indicate magic. Having to be half-way ready to pull a lie straight out of his arse if there was ever a chance he was caught.

With a sudden spurt of rage, Merlin snatched up the parchment and ripped it right down the middle. And he did it again, and again, until he had this handful of much smaller pieces, his words ripped in half as they were nothing but trash. What had he'd been thinking, writing it all down as if it was nothing? There were a few things that should never see the light of day and what was written on that parchment would be one of them. There was no way he could send this out, and maybe he had already known that even before he'd started writing. So why the hell had he even bothered in the first place?

Merlin threw the papers onto the floor, and watched as they got washed away, ripping and tearing as they grew damp when the mop cleaning his floor ran over them. They would get mixed into the bucket of water until there was nothing left, the ink bleeding it's way across the paper until it couldn't be read. So, Merlin figured he could be thankful for small favors. At least nobody else would have the chance to read what he had spelled out. Horrid thoughts, explaining just how worse his depression had gotten, how things would be going back to normal now that the sickness was over. Which meant Merlin would probably be finding an uptick in his abuse from the other people around the city now that free rein would be allowed between the two fractions-the lower town and the inner city-again.

His mother would cry her eyes out before she would get halfway through it. Merlin might hate this, it may have been his own mother that had doomed him to this, but Merlin had never been able to stand seeing his mother upset. If he could protect her from what reality he was doomed too, then…wouldn't that be worth Merlin lying to her? Or fudging the truth just enough so she wouldn't worry about him. Merlin had never been able to get away with lying to his mother, she saw right through him every time. But maybe it's because she knew what he really was. Or maybe it's just a mother's intuition. The woman had spent the first three years of his life cleaning his bottom, it was obvious she would recognize her son trying to get away with something.

Maybe, Merlin hoped, the same intuition wouldn't have the same impact if it was written out…

Merlin snatched up a clean fresh of parchment and pulled it open. He spread it out across his nightstand and got to work on writing a new letter to his mother. He still didn't know how he would get this to her, but after the shitty week he'd been having, he felt better putting out a line of communication to somebody he loved. Even if it was chalk full of lies.

Dear Mother,

I know it's been a while, two months since we have been together. But I just wanted you to know that everything is going great here. Arthur is really nice to me, and he shows me so much patience as he helps me get adjusted to Royal life…

Merlin wrote on and on, readjusting his stories until it resembled more of a fantasy life instead of anything else. The day they met, and Merlin had been the one to threw that first punch was changed. Now, Merlin had said something witty and Arthur had laughed at it, before agreeing Merlin may have a point and it was wrong to torment his servants. Before asking him his name and realizing they were going to be wed. Merlin had completely nixed the part where the two of them had gotten into a fight with maces across the market as there was really no chance of rewriting that. But it did make a compelling story when Merlin explained the first day Arthur had taken him out training for the tourney, and had shown him a few moves-even if he knew Merlin would always be dreadful with a sword. He had hesitated a bit, before allowing himself to put down how Arthur had treated him like a gentlemen at the meet-and-greet, kissing the back of his hand…it had been during the height of Merlin's crush on him and Merlin was embarrassed by how much he'd liked it back then.

Merlin didn't mention a word about Valiant. This was supposed to be a fairy tale and mentioning the creep would ruin the illusion he was trying to go for. But he did find it in himself to explain how he had given over one of his neckerchief's to make use as a favor. Only in his version, Arthur accepted it and walked around with it proudly. He explained how he was following all the traditions of Camelot, and how he and Arthur had been getting to know each other as Merlin helps him into his armor. He even though out there that Arthur had told him his favorite color-blue, as the blond had told him the very first time Merlin had helped him get prepared. Merlin was almost ashamed by admitting it was something he still knew, and not just something he'd decided to forget in the wake of Arthur's abuse. But he added a few more things here and there, and reworked things to how he imagined they would have gone in a happier universe.

Instead of Arthur storming off and leaving him alone at the dance so he could lead Clarissa out onto the floor, Arthur had dismissed her before leading Merlin out. And that was where Arthur taught Merlin how to do one of those stuck up noble dances that seemed to include moves far classier than the dances they'd do around a bonfire in Ealdor during one of those off nights, rare as they had been, to celebrate. Like the birth of a new child, or Yule time when it was too cold to harvest anything of worth and they had the time to celebrate making it through another harsh winter and mourning those that didn't.

But anyway, Merlin continued to write: Arthur was on his side whenever his father got annoyed. The blond liked to listen to him talk, and never interrupted when Merlin rambled on and on. He let Merlin cry onto his shoulder when one of his new friends in Camelot had gotten into trouble, but everything was okay since he and Arthur had fixed it. And on and on Merlin would go, until he had nothing left to write. Until there was nothing left for him to write. Every incident he'd ever had with Arthur written plainly out in front of him until he had to squeeze the ending words on just to make it fit. Reworked until it fit into Merlin's perfect fantasy life. It was absolute crap.

But better then his original parchment where he had given her the honest truth.

Merlin waited only long enough the for ink to dry, so it wouldn't smudge the letters before he rolled up the parchment. He would probably never get to send the false letter to his mother, but it was nice to have it on hand. And if he ever did get around to sending it out …hopefully Hunith wouldn't live out her days fearful over what was happening with him. His mother would already have so many things to worry about since the harvest would probably take up most of her time. He didn't want to distract her with his own pity party.

Merlin kept the letter on his bedside, close enough to always be near. Almost like a child needing a security blanket. And near it…

The flame on the candlelight situated on the edge of his nightstand flickered ominously. It cast worrisome shadows that danced, making odd shapes as it lit up the side of the box. One half of it bathed in all those dancing shadows, and the other side completely hid away in the darkness of the room. Merlin didn't spare it a single glance as he climbed into bed, all cleaning supplies creasing to a halt and returning back to their rightful places. Merlin turned his back to it, before he closed his eyes.

His breathing started to deepen as he gave into all of the peaceful silence that had been denied to him. He whispered a single word without opening his eyes, or his mouth more than it took to breathe it out. Almost like a prayer.

The candle snuffed itself out with Merlin's command, leaving him in darkness. Alone.

X

How was Merlin supposed to know, miles and miles away from where he was trying to catch a few blissful hours of peace, Nimueh was watching him. In a water basin as she always did when she spied on the ones who remained in Camelot's boarders, with a growing smirk.

"Well, well, well, maybe you aren't as dumb as your father is, Merlin." Nimueh cooed down into the water basin. She hadn't been expecting for Merlin to be an actual key player in her plans, hadn't expected him to be strong enough to stop her. Balinor might've been a jokester in his youth, able to laugh before their real lives had taken precedence, but he was also one of the strongest of their generation. She should've saw right from the start that Merlin would have inherited a bit of that raw power. Tempered down by experience and youth, of course, but she could see it would start growing into something great. Nimueh would have to get rid of him before then, before he would become to powerful for even someone as great as her, could manage. "I'm sure you would be very proud of what your son has done, Balinor. Maybe that's why I need to see him dead."

Nimueh really had learned from her mistakes over the past week. Merlin was the only reason her plan failed this time around. So she was going to have to make sure he wasn't hanging around to do the same during her next scheme. If Nimueh wanted to see Uther and his precious kingdom beneath her feet, then Balinor's son would have to breathe his last.

Nimueh waved her hand over the basin again, before watching the image inside changing. Merlin asleep in his bed disappeared, and Nimueh could see the dark features of a cave situated not very far from where her own cave was. But it was much closer toward the city, and the proximity was what she needed. But the cave isn't wasn't what she was interested in. Nimueh wanted what she knew laid inside of it. She waved a hand again, and the image zoomed inside of the cave until she could see the landscape of crumbling rocks inside.

And the single patch of golden flowers growing high on the wall.